A cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is exquisite, and leaves one unsatisfied. What more can one want?

~ Oscar Wilde

There is a familiar scene in those two-tissue films in which the beautiful heroine, usually while in her lover’s arms, coughs.

No ordinary cough—it is usually very deep and requires a lot of chest heaving, which can be a real advantage if the heroine’s breasts are exposed. The audience knows that this frail star is about to spend the next 25 minutes valiantly fighting for her life, a battle she will lose while remaining perfectly gorgeous in her paper gown and IV accessories.

I’m a smoker—that’s who. A few weeks ago, I was an ex-smoker, a title I was really beginning to get used to. I’d been off the sticks for three whole months. This is a real victory for someone who’s been in a committed relationship with RJ Reynolds for the past 20 years. I truly believed that I was healed. Cue gong.

My ego was in full blossom because I’d defeated the fire-breathing dragon and now could perform my own breath of fire without gasping. My morning phlegm count was down, and my cardiovascular health was on the rise. Finally, I could go to yoga class without having to wash my clothes and hair and mat free of the cigarette smell beforehand. I will never go back, I told myself. Never.

by Jill Shropshire

Never is a short time, apparently. A few months later I’m standing in line at the gas station asking for my beloved yellow pack and matches. What began as the desire for just the one, quickly became just the one before bed and just the one while I write. It was just the one 20 times a day. Lots of breath mints and showers and shame.

For those of you who are about to post a response at the bottom of this blog, something along the lines of have you seen the people who have to talk out of the holes in their throats—I know. Smoking for 20 years gives you a private tour of sinus and ear infections, bronchial flare-ups, and out of breath moments on stairs. I’m fascinated by the smoker’s lung pictures on Web MD, but nothing on the internet can compare to how awful I feel when I’m regularly smoking.

I’ve even seen the slow, merciless death of my aunt who was a heavy smoker. Though she died from a brain tumor, it was her lungs that I smelled each time she coughed in that hospital bed. Cigarettes had raped her and pillaged her teeth, throat, heart, organs all. She’d been setting her body ablaze for 30 years, attempting to cover it up with Chanel perfume. As strong as #5 is, it’s no match for the smell of organs that have been suffocating for three decades.

It was with her that I smoked endless packs while drinking wine and talking about art and literature. It’s she that I think of fondly when I see a weary smoker on a work break during the coldest days of winter. She would have braved any cold or heat, any amount of dirty looks or raised insurance rates to smoke her sticks. She was also a New Yorker, and when the city banned smoking in all public areas, she said that for the first time ever she was considering moving. I suggested the South, the haven for the unhealthy and proud.

She taught me almost everything I know about culture and art and history, and she did it while puffing on two packs a day—knowing full well what the outcome was going to be didn’t stop her.

Several years before she died, the all-night coughing fits became more dramatic. She’d grasp at the air around her and get up from the bed to go empty another pack. I knew, with the certainty of a movie audience, that this wasn’t going to end well for my heroine. And so, I did what I always do to deal with stress and grief: smoked.

So even with the surgeon general warnings and a strong spiritual foundation, I find myself fighting and losing. Fighting and losing. True, it is partly my addiction to toxic nicotine. More than that though, smoking has been a huge part of my life–one of the major players in my own drama. It’s been an element of my most painful and most joyous moments. It was, for better or worse, the smell and feel of an evening with my aunt.

That last savasana got me thinking about another familiar scene from the movies. The heroine is met with a great challenge. She has neither the skills nor the confidence to meet this challenge. She trains at gyms, hair salons, ballet studios and recording studios. She finds that one person who believes in her unconditionally, who coaches her to victory. Cue Eye of the Tiger.

I’ve been met with the challenge to quit smoking for good. My training gym is a lovely lavender scented yoga studio. I meditate and breathe and sweat and cry and pray to Ganesh, my heavenly coach, the great ass-kicker of obstacles. The one who helped me survive the pain of my aunt’s brutal death. The elephant god who can help me live a long, oxygenated life. This blog is a plea from the bottom of the ashtray.

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About
Sara Lovelace

Sara Lovelace is a yogini, writer, filmmaker, and fearless fool. She received her MFA in Writing from The School of The Art Institute of Chicago, and her certification at the Satchidananda Ashram, VA. You can contact her at [email protected]

Comments

3711184 Responseshttp%3A%2F%2Fwww.elephantjournal.com%2F2012%2F07%2Fa-plea-from-the-bottom-of-the-ashtray%2FA+Plea+from+the+Bottom+of+the+Ashtray.2012-07-23+17%3A09%3A01Sara+Lovelacehttp%3A%2F%2Fwww.elephantjournal.com%2F%3Fp%3D371118 to “A Plea from the Bottom of the Ashtray.”

Good luck to you. I too was a smoker for about 14 years of my life, and just quit since December last year. Most of my cousins and quite a few of my uncles and aunts smoke too. As I don't live near them however, I know the biggest challenge for me will be the next family gathering where everyone will be sitting around chatting and smoking.

I understand your battle. I was a smoker for 11 years. Most of them heavily. I am now, and have been asthmatic since childhood. I know the bouts with sinus and lung infections, tonsillitis etc. I can't tell you how many times I refused to buy another pack, then found myself digging through my trash in the middle of the night for a drag. Smoking til I felt nauseated, then regretting it. Then craving it again as soon as the sickness in my stomach lifted.
Well, I quit cold turkey 10 years ago. And I am happy to say it is the best decision I ever made, and one of my biggest accomplishments. I realized that perhaps it was just an ill form of pranayama. The conscious breathing calming my mind while the cigarette conversely poisoned my body. I am a hairstylist, and it was normal for me to stick a client under the dryer to condition their hair while I ran outside just to take 3 or 4 quick drags. Well, I made a decision not to change any of my habits. So every time I craved that cigarette I went outside and took several conscious breaths. In my mind I would repeat the intention. "It is more important for me to feel uncomfortable that it is to give myself a cigarette". I knew that below the discomfort what I was avoiding was the key to all the reasons I smoked. My own ignorance to why was just unacceptable to me. Well, long story longer. It didn't matter that much why. The reasons I smoked were out dated and no longer relevant. Clearly the major neon sign was I need to learn to tolerate the condition of being me. And according to the Bhagavad Gita that is what the great yoga is. So, any time I notice my personality wanting to consume anything a little too much I have to check myself. Perhaps you just feel things very deeply and need to build up your tolerance to life's stress and disappointment. I know from personal experience that you can get this monkey off your back. Best of luck to you sister! Om Shanti Shanti Shanti!

Lordy, Lordy, Sara. I knew something was up when your car smelled like you had been smoking in it for days. Skullcap and Lobelia are herbs that can help you recover from addictions to cigarettes. If you would like more information, I would love to help you with your struggle. Praying to Ganesh every time you feel like lighting up may help. You may also consider taking up jogging. While painful at the beginning, it will be much more difficult to light up if you remember how difficult it is to breathe while jogging. May the force be with you. Peace.